


The 5 Stages of Worry. Will Edition

by JustALilSnail



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: 3rd person, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, I joke around to hide my pain so Travis is going to too, M/M, Romance, arrow wound/treatment, hurt!Travis, medic!will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 08:04:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18616549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustALilSnail/pseuds/JustALilSnail
Summary: Will have five stages of worry that Travis likes to dub as: Anxiety. Panic. Silence. Mother Hen, and Mother Hen 2.0.





	The 5 Stages of Worry. Will Edition

**Author's Note:**

> a prompt from the Tumblr post: [not-doing-too-good-sentence-starters](https://miraclesnail.tumblr.com/post/184427356754/not-doing-too-good-sentence-starters)

 

 

> **“Whoa, are you okay?”**

 

“Whoa. Are you okay?”

Ah. The three cursed words.

Travis Stoll was already not having a good day (what with the arrow protruding from his thigh and all) and now he’s about to watch his boyfriend go through what he dubbed as the 5 stages of Worry.

Stage 1. Trepeditation.

From his angle and the 10 feet separating them, Will haven’t seen his wound yet. But he got to know something is wrong. Why else would he be in the infirmary, right? Maybe he could get Will out and get a different medic to treat him… yeah, that sounds doable! Travis is a top tier actor. All those years of lying to Chiron to get out of trouble trained him in keeping the straightest face ever.

So even though his leg burns like Mrs. O'Leary been chewing on it, he smiles and waves. “Will, it’s nice to see you. How’s your day been?”

And Will, being the medical genius and master observer he is, didn’t respond. Instead, he just stares at Travis, a frown beginning to set on his face.

“You’re pale. Are you hurt?”

Alright. Time to do damage control.

Travis shifts his good leg to hide the arrow shaft better. “Yeah, sort of. But it’s nothing too big though. Don’t worry,” he says. You can’t really lie to the son of the God of Truth, but fibbing passes the radar. Fibbing will get him out of this situation.

Will narrows his eyes, stepping closer. “Okay… I don’t believe you, but okay.”

You can’t really lie to the son of the God of liars too either.

Complete honesty.

That’s a hallmark of their relationship.

It may sound nice, but it makes planning romantic surprises a total plan in the behind.

Will takes one more step towards him and freezes. His eyes widen. His fingers curl. The side of his mouth twitches.

Stage 2. Panic.

Which sounds bad, but Will has always been good at never showing panic and stage 2 is quick to go to stage 3.

Complete and utter silence.

Travis watches Will draw closer beside him. He watches Will take in the wound, eyes rolling over the makeshift camp shirt bandage (Thank you, Jason, for your sacrifice) to the shaft of the arrow protruding dead center of his thigh before rolling to him.

Boy oh boy did Will not look happy.

“I know it looks bad,” he says, watching Will’s unchanging expression. “But it really isn’t all that bad.”

“The arrow is in your femur,” Will says emotionlessly.

“But! It’s not in my vital organs so… yay?”

If the scowl on Will’s face is anything to go by… it’s not okay and it’s definitely not yay.

“Who shot you?”

“Are you going to kill them?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’m not going to tell you. You’re going to med school. You can’t have a death count growing now.”

And when Will’s scowl deepens, Travis gives a beaming smile.

“Fine, I’ll get Connor to tell me then.”

Will about-face and head for his medical shelves. He’s pulling out a lot of big and scary instruments. They all seem to be variations of different sized metal tweezers. Travis hopes this is to just scare him and none will be used. Come to think of it… how is an arrow removed? God, he hopes it’s fast.

“You know,” Will says, coming back and setting his tools on the foot of the bed. “If you had just been more careful, this probably wouldn’t have happened.”

Travis groans inwardly.

The dreaded stage 4. Lectures

It’s Will’s way of offering help, of preventing any more future misfortune and it _would_ probably help keep him out of trouble if he ever manages to recall it before he ends up hurt.

“You’re fast. The fastest person I know.”

Will snaps on his gloves.

“I have total faith you can dodge anything.”

He pulls his swivel chair up beside the bed.

“You just gotta be a bit more aware of your surrounding.”

And Will places a hand at his lumbar and chants. Immediately the pain radiating from his thigh disappears and Travis sinks back on the elevated bed in relief.

“Do you feel anything?”

“Nope!”

“Good. It’ll just take a minute for me to remove the arrow. Sit tight.”

Travis closes his eyes when Will takes out a scalpel. He has a strong stomach. Heck, he helped Will study with all the medical books spread out before them. He saw all the nasties he could ever see (frostbite, gangrene, 3rd-degree burn, lacerations, knife wounds, abrasions). And not to mention he hung around the infirmary almost half of his free time every day with Will, he seen and even helped in some freaky-deeky stuff. But seeing it done to him is something he does not need to see. A big no thank you.

“You’re not always going to be so lucky,” Will continues, “Next time, it could be in your liver.”

Travis nods, hands curling into the paper sheets.

“Or the spine.”

His heart pounds uncomfortably. Metal clinks. Priers are being open.

“What would you have done if they aimed at your face?”

He feels unbearably hot like he just ran 5 miles or when Will decides for an impromptu sleepover in his cabin and they share a bed.

“You gotta use your speed and not get hurt.”

And there’s a subtle pounding in his head and is that lightheadedness he’s feeling? Oh wait, he knows what’s going on. Will once told him that blocking the nerves don’t block his bodies’ response to the stress. The mind may not process the wound but the body still notices and it responds accordingly.

Maybe it’s trying to tell him he’s dying. Maybe it’s trying to tell him to open his eyes. Maybe it’s trying to tell him to see if Will needs help.

But if Will really needs help, he’ll say something.

So… maybe he isn’t dying. Maybe he’s just hungry. Maybe he knows dinner is in 10 minutes. Maybe he knows if he doesn’t make it on time, he’ll have a corner seat. And maybe he knows none of his siblings will be nice enough to give him an inside seat.

Which means he’s going to have to sneak onto the Apollo’s table and eat with Will. That doesn’t sound so bad! Nice going, body.

“Travis, you’re still conscious, right? You haven’t passed out or anything?”

“Yeah,” he says, eyes still closed.

“I’m done. You can open your eyes now.”

He did.

And his breath hitches as Will presses his lips against his.

A hand cups his cheek, thumb resting against cheekbone and fingers curling into the back of his hair.

It took maybe one second, two, three, four seconds to realize they’re kissing — Will is — They are — he is — kissing. They’re kissing. _They’re kissing_ and holy shit, he’s doing nothing.

And before he _could_ do something, Will pulls away with a soft chuckle and a knowing eye. “You okay? You didn’t pass out, did you?”

“What was that for?”

There’s a smug smile on his smug face that Travis really wants to kiss again, actually kind of hoping Will will lean down again for a second round. But instead, Will pats his now patched thigh and stands with his instruments in hand and one bloodied arrow.

“Your booboo kiss. You look like you were on the verge of crying,” Will says, dumping everything into the sink and snapping his gloves into the trash. “

“I’m still on the verge of crying. You should definitely come back here and soothe my pain.” Travis swings his legs off the bed, but Will is by his side in a second and hefting his legs back up onto the bed.

“Ohohoho, no, you’re not leaving yet.” That tone… that little disapproving glare… oh, crap, stage 5. Mother hen.

Travis tries for a convincing, easy-going grin. “Will, I’m fine. I don’t feel anything at all. See?” And he held up his arms.

But Will didn’t give, only lifting an eyebrow. “Just like that time you didn’t notice the 3rd-degree burn on your arm? I’m sorry, Travis, but you’re not the most observant person out there.”

 _He got me_. And Travis sinks back into the infirmary bed, pouting and crossing his arms. “We’re gonna miss dinner.”

“Connor will get us leftovers,” Will says, gentle fingers grazing along the body, torso, calves, and elsewhere.

Travis pouts further. His boyfriend and brother are teaming up against him. This is what he gets for making sure Will get along well with his brother. Maybe he shouldn’t help Will get along with his half brothers and sisters. Who knows what’ll happen.

Then a remarkable idea hit Travis like a brick.

“Will.”

“Hm?” Will didn’t glance up, so focused on his task, just like he knows he would.

“Look at me. I have something to show you.”

And when Will looks towards him, Travis leans forward and kisses him.

Will snorts, eyes rolling, but obliges and sits down on the bed and kiss him back.

The second kiss is just as nice as the first. Travis could almost say it was  perfect if it weren’t for his brother entering the infirmary, snapping a picture, exiting, and then yelling for the whole world to hear,

“Travis isn’t dead. He’s just making out with Will. I win. Everybody owes me $10!”

**Author's Note:**

> Will and Travis are my OTP. Why? I don't know why either. I just have a thing for crack pairings ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> Just so everyone knows... I like to imagine Travis and Will being the same age. (I actually picture most of my ships being the same age) So they’re like 18 in this fic. I know in canon there’s gotta be at least a two year difference but I’m already breaking canon by not writing solangelo. Why not break canon a little bit more? 
> 
> Comments and kudos are very appreciated!


End file.
